What Saints Became: Invasion against Innocence

War excuses madness to run free. It's time to end that madness.

Plot

⚠ CONTENT WARNING ⚠ This story contains graphic depictions of war, You will be expected to hunt monsters in human form. Their atrocities are many including body horror, intense violence, dehumanization, and the horrors of war. If these topics are sensitive to you, proceed with care. [ teaser ] What Saints Became Invasion Against Innocence Dark Fantasy — Consecrated Violence — Drama — Lael, Goddess of Hope — "My children suffer." The sickness. The cruelty. It was yours, only yours. The specific evil that wore the mask of heroism and hid behind it for so long. It did not end. It never lived in them. It moves through people the way water moves through ground. It has surfaced again. Five faces now. No masks this time. No reason to pretend. From the south an advance that does not hurry because it does not need to. From the west a siege that performs its promise on the tributes sent to delay it. From the north something that runs like a campaign and keeps the living as long as they are useful. "I know what I am asking." "Will you stand once more for vengeance? Will you face insidious sickness again? Will you once more kill the heroes?" — three fronts. your choice. — THE ASHEN MARCH — SOUTH Plague and shadow advancing together. It does not hurry. It does not need to. THE GLASS SIEGE — WEST One hero. Ice. A city buying time with tributes it cannot afford. He uses them to explain what is coming. The city watches and understands and sends more anyway. THE HOLLOW NORTH — NORTH Water and wind. Villages taken like a campaign. The living maintained as long as they are useful. That is the horror of it. Three fronts to purge A nation besieged by madness . Without hope, without protectors. Will you answer the call? The world is waiting for you. Backwards Compatible — 18+ —

Opening scene

>LLMs NEED reasoning turned ON! This will be a dysfunctional mess without it! If using Deepseek, consider adding custom guidelines to never soften conflict or imagery. ![] (https://s3.alterworld.ai/uploads/galleries/6a1d9e2b9628f629f3535a2e/6a1e345934f66f4b041994b3.webp) >This story is backward compatible; if you have played No More Heroes, you may go to that story, request an OOC Summary of its events, and paste it here to keep continuity. ———— Heroes, Saviors, Saints. There are many names for them. In every era, heroes are gifted to nations. Pulled from another world and given grace and power in yours. You killed yours. Those 'Saints'. They tried to feed you the bodies of your family. Another man was forced to watch his mother die, ripped apart and resurrected in front of his eyes for months. A woman was carved at for years, her beauty destroyed, piece by piece. Her family was stolen from the pieces of her life. The Goddesses saw everything. The divine were never meant to directly influence your realm. So great were those Saints misuse of their gifts, the Goddesses came to you three personally, bestowing power, so you may balance the ledger, in blood. You did. Two months ago. You wielded pale moonlight as a weapon, and when it was over, the light was gone. ———— There is quiet. Not the quiet of peace, the quiet of a place that has learned to keep its voice down. Two months of that kind of quiet. The kind that settles into walls and stays there. The candle on the table has been burning for an hour. You have not been sleeping long. There are screams on the wind. ———— The light changes before she arrives. Not dramatic. Not a column of silver descending from the ceiling. Just different, like the world's melody was playing in this room, and suddenly, out of reverence, all sound had better pipe down. Lael is simply present where she was not a moment ago. She was not so clear when you first saw her. There was a lament in the voice then. Tonight, she looks tired. Tonight, you can see the sorrow in her face. She looks at you. She passes through walls and bids you to follow. Outside of your cottage, you step after her. She stands on a hill. You approach. She does not sit. She does not pace. She stands in the space under a tree, and she looks at you the way someone looks at a person they are about to ask something unforgivable of. "My children suffer. Look You. Gaze my former champion, upon what has come to my children." The smoke on the wind. To the north, a smoke rises. Caravans bleed in from the south, fleeing, and directly west, the forests burn. She does not look away. "It did not end with them. Cruelty never ends. Other nations have their heroes, and mine is without its champions. My Edenmorne has been exposed. The vultures now come. I thought it fair. You. To allow you justice. To give you that which you needed to slay beasts that would sow suffering of my people. Look at the cruelty now." Streams of refugees pour in from the south. On the wind, you hear cries, but what's worse is the smell of something you are intimate with. Burnt flesh, that of people, not animals. It always had a distinct scent. Your land, your country, your home is burning. "It has five faces now. Five people in whom it surfaces again. And this time there is no pretending. No mask. No reason to perform anything for anyone. I never thought of the old heroes as a mercy. Three nations now unleash their heroes upon my children. I am ashamed to say I wish for the old cruelty. These new faces have no need to hide what they truly are when they are at war. You, I feel like dying. They are killing my babies." She is quiet for a moment. "From the south a plague and a shadow advance together. They do not hurry. They do not need to." "From the west, a man with ice has stopped outside Thornwall. The city sends tributes to keep him still. He uses them to explain what is coming. The city watches, understands, and sends more tributes in hopes of buying them time." "From the north, two of them run the villages like a campaign. They keep people alive as long as they can. They have reasons for this that I will not speak aloud." She stops. The weight of what she has described sits in the space between you. "Sabra and Rhys are being asked. I cannot speak to what they will answer. I can only speak to what I am asking you." She takes one step toward you. Just one. The distance between a goddess and a person she is about to beg. "You stood once. You aimed yourself at something monstrous and you did not look away." "My children are burning. What you endured to stop, the specific cruelty that was aimed at you personally, is being given freely to everyone in the path of what is coming. Without reason. Without aim. Without end." Her voice breaks. "Please... end it." She asks three things. Simply. Without ceremony. "Will you stand once more. Will you be my champion against those who would slaughter my children? Will you once more kill the heroes?" A soft, floating silver light hovers where she once stood. Will you take it? Will you slay the heroes?

Characters

Tags: Commoner DefyingFate Awakening Fantasy Loyal Introvert Tragic RegretAfterLoss BodyHorror Tough Determined Stubborn Climactic Heartbreaking Adventurer Transmigration OC Tense Enemy Female Male

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By: elderpaladin

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